


Now the Dark begins to rise

by wewillalwaysenduphere



Series: Take The Path That Leads To Power [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 13-year-old Sam, Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Eventual Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, First part of a longer AU, Gen, Raised Apart, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 08:18:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7632208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wewillalwaysenduphere/pseuds/wewillalwaysenduphere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is thirteen years old when he meets Crowley for the first time. He has powers he can't control and there are forces out there he doesn't understand, but they call him a king and deep inside he knows there's no place for him in the world he grew up in.</p><p>So he follows a demon down the rabbit hole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Now the Dark begins to rise

**Author's Note:**

> This is the beginning of a bigger AU that will evolve around Sam being raised as the Boy King by Crowley and Lucifer, while Dean is trained as a hunter.  
> Later on they will meet (and fuck) with Sam knowing exactly who Dean is, while Dean has no clue.  
> Despite Lucifer, Crowley and various other monsters being on board, Sam is going to be 'villain' in this, if you wanna call him that.
> 
> My take on how everything coud have gone if the demons had had the foresight of raising their future king themselves instead of letting him grow up a hunter and therefore a natural enemy.
> 
> Lots more to come.
> 
> Enjoy :)

 

 _“It's like everyone tells a story about themselves inside their own head. Always. All the time.  
That story makes you what you are. We build ourselves out of that story.”  
― Patrick Rothfuss_ _, The Name of the Wind_

 

Sam Winchester had never been normal, and by the time he was 13, he realized he would never be.

Maybe it was because he never knew his parents, because he grew up in an orphanage, because he never knew what a home was. Perhaps it was because he liked boys as well as girls. _Perhaps it was because he could move things with his mind._

It happened the first time when he was barely six, when he was fighting with another boy over a toy. They never had quite enough, and Sam was too nice to start a fight most of the time. He was a gentle soul, the caretakers liked him, knew he wouldn’t give them trouble, but he was just a child after all, and this afternoon he did want to play, so he clutched the Batman figure close to his chest and refused to let go. Marcus, the boy who wanted to take the toy from him came close, balled his small hands into fists and looked as if he was ready to throw punches, until he suddenly stumbled back. He looked at Sam, confused, and he must have seen something behind him, probably one of the adults, because he recoiled, got up as fast as possible and left the room. Sam had smiled and turned around to say thank you, but there was no one. The room was empty except for him and another group of children playing in one of the corner, an easy board game.  Sam shrugged, took his Batman and sat down in another corner, opposite to the group of kids. The ground was made out of a soft carpet, and it was comfortable. He was tired, kinda exhausted. He fell asleep right there, until one of the caretakers woke him up. It was time for dinner. Sam followed without protest, walking down the old corridors, green paint that had become greyish with age, the old wooden floor creaking. He was small, so the double doors to the dining hall looked huge. He opened them, came in, everybody looking up at him, already seated around the round tables, with their meals in front of them. Marcus didn’t look at him. It would be a lie to say that he was terribly sad about that. He smiled a little when he picked up his tray up, and went to sit on a table with some other boys. They looked at him, tried to be nice and he smiled back, happy to be included.

Sam was clever, and as soon as he started school, everyone realized it. A lot of the children didn’t like him because of it, but he didn’t care – he made some friends that were like him, that knew the only way to get out of here and actually get a life on their own was to get a good job, and to get that they needed a proper education. A life with more money, more clothes, more privacy and luxury they had now. Sam had always known this, and he tried, tried real hard.

Until he turned thirteen, and he failed a test because one of the teachers phrased a question strangely. It was no big deal, nobody got it right. But Sam was angry. And when he was angry, he could hold a grudge for days, weeks, and even after months he wouldn’t forget what had happened.

It was just a part of him, he knew his anger was a weakness of character he should try to get rid of, and he was trying, but it never really worked.

So when he left the school that day, backpack slung over one shoulder, slightly annoyed with himself and the rest of the world, he sighed irritatedly as he had to wait at the red light. Then he saw his teacher, the bright blue van she was driving, probably to pick up her kids from their school, or to her husband, or just doing some grocery shopping, probably just going home. But he didn’t think about that. He thought about his test and about how his mark for this term was ruined and suddenly anger flared red hot inside him, made him ball his fists and wish she would just –

Suddenly her left front tire exploded. He recoiled, saw what happened and couldn’t quite understand, the panicked face of his teacher clearly visible through the windshield, trying to get the control over her car back.

She failed. The car crashed into a nearby house. The metal hitting the stone wall made a noise Sam could not describe, didn’t want to think about in detail because it sounded like destruction and damage and death.

Sam swallowed. He had a sinking feeling inside his stomach, his knees were feeling weak, and his hands were sweaty. He was shaking, clutching the straps of his backpack to have something to hold on to, not sure what he should do.

“Hello, Sam.”

He jumped to the left, seemingly out of nothing a man had appeared to his right.

“Oh, I am sorry in case I scared you.”

“Who are you?”

Sam is scared, yes, but more than that he is simply confused, completely nonplussed. Who was this bearded guy, in his fifties, short black hair, suit with tie, looking like some kind of shady business man? He stepped away, couldn’t hurt to have a little distance between himself and the stranger.

“I’m Crowley”, he answered with a smile that should probably be reassuring, but looked rather creepy. “I want to make you an offer you can’t refuse.” His voice was soft, compelling.

Sam steps back even further, already shaking his head. He was intelligent, but even a stupid kid would know not to listen to a guy like Crowley.

“Thanks, but I’m fine”, he replied, turning away and-

Crowley was in front of him. He jumped back, afraid, staring at him with wide eyes.

“How did you...?” He was speechless, didn’t understand. His brain couldn’t explain what just happened, but he realized running would be pointless.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Sam”, he said, showing him his open hands, “In fact, I doubt I could, even if I tried. Your powers are quite impressive already.” He looked over at the crashed car, people were running out of the school and towards the car, maybe that’s why no one had realized that Crowley just...teleported. It was like bending his mind to actually use that word and accept that was what just happened.

Sam shook his head, hands and voice shaking. “I didn’t do this. I mean, yeah I’m angry but my anger can’t make her tire explode. That was coincidence.”

Crowley smiles. “Of course. And everything else that happens around you? Coincidence too?”

Sam bites his lip. He stares at the ground, knowing there is something not right with him, but unwilling to admit it. “Yes. I’m a normal boy.”

The man shakes his head and comes closer, his eyes flashing red. Sam’s mouth falls open, he can’t believe what he’s seeing. This was what Alice must have felt like when she tumbled down the rabbit’s hole, he thought, because he’s slowly losing his grip on reality, the accident just ten meters away is forgotten, so are the street and the people. There are sounds around him, voices shouting, but his world has narrowed down on Crowley’s red eyes.

“You’re not, Sam. You’re so much more than just a boy. You are chosen, and you will be king. You can do way more than just make a tire explode.” Crowley looks at him, his voice suddenly deeper, echoing. “I can teach you. Show you how to control it, give you what you need to become stronger. I’ll pay for your education. I just want to be on your good side when...when you’re all grown up. Just don’t forget about me.”

Sam stares at his eyes, mind blank, not understanding a word he was saying. Nothing was making sense.

“What are you?”, he asks.

“A demon, my boy.”

And Sam turns around and runs.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

The next two weeks feel like he’s walking under water. Everything seems dull, he feels like everyone has to be able to see that it was him, that he’s a freak, that he’s something else. Sam believes he’s like Crowley, a demon. He goes to school and stares at the board, not paying attention. He doesn’t do his homework, he researches demons instead. He doesn’t sleep, he steals salt from the kitchen and a rosary from one of the nuns occasionally taking care of children.

He goes into an empty room at night, the one where the younger kids play during the day. With shaking hands he forms a circle of salt around him, a bottle of water in his hand, the rosary inside. He knows now that he’s not a demon, can’t be. He takes a deep breath, forces himself to calm down and says, “Crowley?”

The demon appears out of nowhere. Looks at him, slightly impressed.

“You got that with the salt and the holy water right, but to catch a demon, you'll need a devil’s trap as well.”

Sam freezes. And still, he’s not as afraid as he should be. He just summoned a demon in the middle of the night, a bottle of water with a rosary soaking inside everything he has to defend himself. He should be shaking with fear, but he isn’t. He looks at Crowley, and he realizes the demon knows it too. Knows that he’s not afraid, even pays him respect by keeping his distance, not treating him like a child.

“What am I?” Sam asks, voice steady. Crowley nods slowly.

“Now you’re asking the interesting questions. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to answer that here and now. There’s another demon, called Azazel. He made you what you are. He’ll explain it to you. Personally, I think he doesn’t know what you’re capable of. I won’t force you to follow him.”

Sam tries to make sense of everything, but he doesn’t know enough. But the name, _Azazel_ , is burned into his brain.

“Would you teach me? About demons and all the other things, and how to use my abilities?”

Crowley nods, but even now, he’s honest. “I will try, but you have to know that you are unique, Sam. So it might take some research in my archives and some time to find out how to deal with your...particular skill set.”

Sam looks at him, somehow he knows the demon is telling the truth. He almost trusts Crowley, but he knows that demons lie.

“Okay”, he says, looking at him, chewing his lip. He’s wearing his pyjamas, and this demon is agreeing to his conditions. He’s thirteen years old, and this being from hell follows his terms. Sam smirks. Maybe this was a gift, not a curse.

“Okay?” Crowley asks, not knowing what exactly he means.

“I’ll come with you”, he elaborates, looking straight into the demon’s eyes, not red this time.

Crowley smiles, looking very, very satisfied. “Good. There are a lot of people waiting for you...they will be happy to finally meet you.”

Sam swallows and nods. He can go through with this. Crowley holds out his hand, and Sam hesitantly steps closer.

“Are you going to...teleport us?”

Crowley chuckles. “Something like that”, he confirms.

Sam decides he can deal with that – if demons exist, why not teleportation?

“And where are we going?” Sam asks, finally putting his small hand into Crowley’s bigger one.

The man smiles, eyes flashing red, but there’s no fear in Sam. There’s a strange calm surrounding him, he’s neither nervous nor anxious, he’s ready. His eyes are calm, and he knows it’s unsettling for Crowley, a thirteen-year-old looking at him like this, without the slightest hint of trepidation, merely asking.

“To Hell”, he answers.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments & Kudos are greatly appreciated :)  
> I had planned for the next part to be about Dean and his upbringing as a hunter, but please let me know what you're interested in.  
> By the way: I will be posting snippets and scenes that I wrote without any chronological order. This AU might also have different paths and different relationships going on later, depending on how my muse works.


End file.
